Cotton Candy, Pops, and Caramel Popcorn

Holiday pastures and moonlit brilliance. it seems that nothing ever stays the same. we all want to think that we've made a difference in life, in the world, in people. we all want to be remembered one way or the other. people who became infamous are just runner ups, never really, officially, making it to the big leagues. known but not loved. or is it more loved by few, hated by all? Im not leaving until rain stops knocking on my windows. cant let it in. cant let it take me. there's something too personal, being in the rain. i cant stand it when it touches my face, taking liberties with its cold caress. it feels like death. stealing all my warmth one centimeter at a time. I used to love rain. i remember i would run out in my shorts and overgrown shirt just to bathe in its warm waters. but that was another life, another continent. I remember trying that here, the first time i saw rain. i froze my ass off. nothing is ever quite the same as we remember it. I never understood why rain was cold here, until i was eight years old I never even thought of another alternative anywhere else in the world other than warm, no biting wind, rain. snow was a foreign word to me. I thought of it as clouds drifting down like softly padded shooting stars. snow was for the children in Disney movies making snow angels and morbidly obese snowmen and women with snow children, sticks, buttons, scarves, hats and carrots and bits of clouds- seemed easy enough for me.